


Ghosts of Summerhall

by MeeMaw



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jenny's Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 21:25:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18582886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeeMaw/pseuds/MeeMaw
Summary: When the ghosts leave Summerhall and summer returns to the living.





	Ghosts of Summerhall

**Author's Note:**

> I received an anonymous Tumblr prompt. 
> 
> "Where are the fics of Rhaegar singing the song of Jenny in summerhall or Harrenhall with Lyanna crying in the background?Where are the fics, people?someone with mercy can please create some ...."
> 
> It's just a little drabble. I've never written Rhaegar and Lyanna. So, forgive me if it's not to your liking. In any case, lemme know if you read it, anon!

Rhaegar strums the chords of his high harp and loses himself in the songs of the glories of the Kings of his blood and Queens who were fiercer than the Dragons' sons. He sometimes sings of a king who gave grief to the gods and Lyanna once wondered if she was the Elenei to his Durran who has brought the wrath of the gods upon his kingdom but it is one of those rare songs that brings about a spark in his eyes. _Mayhaps it gives him heart that one day he’d vanquish all his foes,_ she thinks.

She knows he loves her in his silence and though no one will ever hear him sing ‘ _the bear, the bear, the maiden fair’_ or _‘the maids that bloom in spring’_ , he sings those too when she demands as she lays with her tousled hair splayed around her and no one else’s around to hear. But the songs Rhaegar loves the most are always the sadder ones. They’re about death and doom and a world that is bereft of fire and blood. His beautiful eyes often brim with tears that catch the light from the stars. In those moments, he mirrors the ghosts of Summerhall that Lyanna knows haunt him at nights such as this.

He casts a dark shadow in the moonlight as he sits in the ruins of his birth and plucks a string with his long, slender finger. She prays that one day the stones of this ruin will be upturned and the ghosts who dwell here will be free of their burdens.

 _High in the halls of the kings who are gone_  
_Jenny would dance with her ghosts._  
_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found._  
_And the ones who had loved her the most._  
_The ones who’d been gone for so very long_  
_She couldn’t remember their names_  
_They spun her around on the damp, cold stone_  
_Spun away her sorrow and pain_  
_And she never wanted to leave_

She does not realize she has been crying until his fingers leave the silver threads and the palm of his hand is cradling her face.

“Why do you ask me to sing Jenny’s song if that makes you hurt so much.” He complains with sad eyes.

 _I’m your Jenny and you’re doomed because you loved me._ She thinks.

“We should never have met.” She leans on his shoulder and does not believe any word that falls from her lips but her voice is a rustle of the northern winds that carry the ominous chill of doom. “I should have married Robert and you should have stayed with your Princess.”

 _“You_ are my Princess.” He catches her tears between his lips before they fall and pulls her in his embrace. He doesn’t regret any of it and she doesn’t expect anything less from him.

“Let’s run away.” She pleads.

“Where to?”

“Essos.” She thinks Rhaegar will like it there, for she has heard there’s no winter in Essos. 

His deep violet eyes smile in remorse, “haven’t I dragged you enough with me?”

“No,” Lyanna says evenly and he knows she means it. He knows she will walk the burning sands of Dorne and cold, grey mountains of the North barefoot if he asked.

“I shall end it, I promise.” She takes his outstretched hand, the babe in her belly oddly still that evening. “He’s a quiet one. I hope he takes after you in looks as well.”

“Gods forbid,” Rhaegar says, hiding his amusement by looking away from her.

“Don’t pretend. I know you wish it thusly.” She teases him.

 

 

“I don’t know how to send off a Dragon to war.” She fidgets and paces their chambers.

“On a dragon, with Valyrian steel in his hand.” He tells her as softly as he could and his smile is a kiss of gloom.

“Where do I find those? Tell me. I’ll bring them to you.” She chokes.

 _Summerhall_. He looks away when he thinks it.

She craves his true smile. So, she elbows him. She isn’t a bloody poetess and now is not the time to become a lady. “Sing me a song.”

“Which one?” His eyes twinkle with love.

“Jenny’s song.” She says. _I'll blame my tears on her._

 

 

A strong wind of winter blows all day and night and the last standing tower of Summerhall crushes and unwrings Rhaegar’s silver harp under its burden. _Lyanna_.. she hears and sees a crown sinking in crimson waters too deep.

She jolts awake from the nightmare.

“Rhaegar calls to me.” She runs to the Kingsguards and tells them.

“Prince Rhaegar is at the Trident, Princess.”

She clutches her chest and walks barefoot in the desert for hours and Arthur follows her silently. He watches over her like a sentinel, he has a promise to keep. She finally turns around and as she climbs up the last step of the tower, Lyanna slumps against the damp flagstones.

 _He’s at Summerhall._ She now knows it.

 

 

She thinks of Rhaegar, dreams that they have escaped to Essos. Her and him and their babe. She imagines him sitting in a large window playing his high harp. She cannot imagine a small, peasanty home because it wasn’t him. So, she imagines they live in a large manse of white marble, imagines a weirwood tree in its yard where she teaches their son to pray to the Old Gods.

Rhaegar, her Dragon, he does not believe in any Gods, only prophesies. But Lyanna has her Gods, the ancient gods of the North. _They’ll protect my babe,_ she thinks in her dying moments and calls out to Rhaegar. 'Rhaegar, my love, I've done my part … our song is complete.'

 

 

_"Look, Lya! Didn’t I tell you the dragons will return?" Rhaegar stares at the sky and smiles so brightly, Lyanna fears he may shame the sun._

 

“We’ll make our home here. Our chambers would be that way, overlooking the Red Mountains.” A dark-haired man points to a sunken tower afar. He’s a King.

“And our children’s? I can’t have them far from us” A beautiful, silver-haired woman is more a mother in that moment than a Queen.

 

_Lyanna looks closely, she looks at her lilac eyes that shine like stars even during the day._

_Rhaegar only nods sadly when Lyanna wonders if that’s how Rhaella looked._

_‘His smile is bewitching. Much like Rhaegar’s and his voice too. But he has my hair.’ Lyanna observes her son and thinks. She keeps rubbing her eyes. She cannot cry, not now, the tears blur her gaze and she wants to take in the sight of her son and his bride in the same ruins she used to visit with Rhaegar._

_Her son speaks with a Northern accent that she remembers from life. He reminds her of the kin who’ve been lost to her. Rhaegar sees her pain and takes her hand in his, lovingly kissing her knuckles, reassuring her of his presence._

 

“Dany, we’ll also need a forge and a yard for training. I’ll teach all our children how to swing a sword.”

“A hall too. A large hall where our children will learn to dance.” Dany says, twirling her skirts and climbing upon the fallen stones.

“Aye. A hall too for our little princes and princesses.” Their shoulders graze as they make promises for a future. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” She murmurs as a loving hand came to rest over her middle, fingers curl around each others'. “I do not wish to go back tonight.”

“If the queen can sleep under the stars, who am I to complain?” Jon spreads his cloak and tucks an elbow under his head as he stares at the stars that have lit up the indigo sky.

_“He reminds me of you. He carries his furs even when he rides his dragon.” Rhaegar tells her faintly and chuckles. She remembers the comfort she had sought in her furs even at the peak of the southern sun. “He’s half wolf, remember?” Lyanna brags fiercely._

_“She’s beautiful, your sister.” Lyanna bites her thumb to curtail her joy, wiping seven damned tears from her eyes._

_“So is my son.” Rhaegar prides._

_“Sing a song for me, Rhaegar.”_

_“I don’t have my harp, it’s under that caved tower” he points out to the colossal ruin._

_“Who said anything about the harp. My heart is so full, I just want to hear you sing today.”_

 

A gust of air and a hushed song of memories echo in a distance. Daenerys brings her knees to her chest and sits next to Jon. When she closes her eyes, a haunting rune fills her heart with melancholy and she is drawn closer to the man next to her, the very heart and soul of the Silver Bard whose songs once echoed through these ruins.

“Dany”, Jon’s beckoning makes Dany move to lay above his outstretched arm and he curls her into his chest.

“Jon, do you hear this?” She looks around and asks.

“What is it?” Jon croons lazily.

_A song._

"Nothing. Mayhaps it's just the breeze..."

 

_“Come, Lya. Ghosts don’t belong with the living. Come, let us find those old gods of yours.”_

_“A moment longer.” The mother’s heart says. Would that she could talk to her son and his bride, tell them how much she loves them both. 'Son..' she stretches her hand and skids towards him, but just as in life, Rhaegar sweeps her off her feet and carries her away… "Allow the living to dwell in peace, my love. Don't haunt them."_

 

“Did you hear that?” Jon asks.

“Heard what?” Daenerys nestles deeper in the crook of his arm and wonders.

“I heard a woman’s voice. She was of the North.”

*~*~*

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the writing wasn't too confusing. 
> 
> Sequence:
> 
> Rhaegar & Lyanna at Summerhall  
> Rhaegar leaves for King's Landing  
> Rhaegar dies  
> Lyanna dies  
> Jon & Dany plan to rebuild Summerhall


End file.
